


Aftermath

by Lichterin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Codependent Winchesters, Concerned Sam Winchester, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Finds Out, John Winchester/Mary Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Mary Finds Out, Non-Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), Pre-Relationship, probably medically inaccurate i'm sorry, vague injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichterin/pseuds/Lichterin
Summary: Dean gets in a car accident and Sam is a very worried little brother.





	Aftermath

“ _I’ll be driving the rest of the way so you’ll have to find something else to stay entertained. Sorry, I know nothing’s as interesting as me_ ,” the text message read.

Sam smiled and leaned against the bus’s window as he typed a reply. “ _Whatever, jerk. My battery’s dying anyways. Drive save._ ”

“ _Will do, bitch. As if I would crash my baby._ ”

“ _Not yours, but keep dreaming._ ” Sam shot back and turned off his phone before Dean had a chance to answer.

“His baby? He’s not talking about a car, is he?” Dave, his seat neighbor, asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He is,” laughed Sam. “Why were you reading over my shoulder?”

Dave gave a crooked grin. ”Sorry, but you kept messaging and smiling and how could I not look? You acted like you were texting a girlfriend or something and not you brother.”

“Well, I miss him.”

“Noticed that, man. You’re the only person I know that doesn’t hate his sibling.”

Sam snorted and frowned at him. “Seems a bit harsh? That’s so not true.”

“Yeah, well, you know what I mean,” he shrugged.

Sam gave an answering hum, not quite agreeing.

“Wanna play?” asked Dave and held up a pack of cards. “Now that you’re finally talking.”

“Sure, why not,” he said, ignoring the talking part. He hadn’t had any contact to Dean for the past few days, of course he was going to hang on the phone as soon as Dean had reception again.

Normally they would do camping trips as a family, but Sam had been away on a school trip for the week, so Dad had decided to take Dean out into the woods and have some quality time with his eldest son. Mom took time off work too, probably to have some time by herself with all the men out of the house.

The last few hours dragged on. Not to mention his friends weren’t even with him on this field trip and he was left conversing with someone he didn’t even know, much less care about. At least playing cards and small talk was better than staring out of the window and daydreaming about coming home. Okay, that was pathetic. He had handled the week without Dean just fine.

Still, he was allowed to miss his brother.

It was a bit of a downer not to see the Impala when he exited the schoolbus. It meant Dean was home and not picking him up, or they were still on the way here, which implied they were stuck in traffic because they should technically already be back. Either way, Sam had to get home by himself.

He shouldered his duffel bag, took one last look around the parking lot, and went to the bus stop.

No sleek black car in the driveway or garage. Sam pouted and went in to throw his bag into his room before plugging his charger into his phone, hoping for a text from Dean. Instead, the announcement of two missed calls from Mom popped onto the screen when he turned it on. Confused, Sam played the first message she left him.

“ _Sam, a truck hit them, they- they. The hospital called, I’m there right now, and… oh god- sorry,_ ” - a shuddering breath - “ _John’s awake but they’re not sure what’s with Dean yet, he’s unconscious, I don’t know anything precise yet--_ ”

Sam crouched down, cold sweat running down his back, his heart drumming way up into his throat, and all he could do was stare at the screen that was no longer in focus. All thought seemed to have vanished from his brain. With trembling fingers he clicked for the second message and brought the phone to his ear, pressing his eyes closed.

Mom was silent for an agonizing second or two before she started talking. “ _Your Dad is okay, nothing really happened to him. Dean is- I was in there, they say he’ll wake up but is quite badly injured… Sammy, baby, I’m so sorry for the first call, I should have waited until you come home, but your phone’s off anyways and… I’m still at the hospital if you want to come. Text me when you get this and I’ll send you the room number… Please, don’t worry too much, the doctor says he’ll be fine._ ” 

She didn’t need to add the ‘probably’, Sam could hear it clear as ice. He still hasn’t woken up and who knows if he ever will. An overwhelming sense of dread swept over him, Sam gasped for air he couldn’t get. He knew what Mom sounded like when Dean got hurt - god knows he had his fair share of injuries. But this? He had to - he had to get to Dean. Immediately.

His stomach was churning but he forced himself to breathe, counting the seconds.

Contemplating quickly, he called for a cab. He would have to wait for it to arrive but it would still be faster than figuring out where he had to go and how to get there by public transportation.

He slowly made his way to the kitchen and drank a glass of water, knowing he couldn’t panic now and trying to stop the dizziness that was spreading through his body. He grabbed his wallet and sat on the front porch as he waited, chewing on his knuckles and watching the sky rapidly darken as the sun was setting.

How could the world look so beautiful while Dean was hurting? Sam averted his gaze and looked at the mud to his feet instead, but his stare went right through, seeing and not seeing at the same time, concentrating solely on the pressure against his eyes, trying not to think - not to overthink - what was going on with Dean. Trying to keep the tears in.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, swaying slightly back and forth, shivering from the burst of evening wind hitting him. He should get a jacket.

A car honk startled him and he jumped to his feet. Running to the car he pulled open the door and told the driver to take him to the hospital. The driver barely shot him a glance as he was already on the gas pedal.

“Buckle up, kid,” he said. “Are you hurt?” 

Sam jerked his head in an attempt at a shake and brushed away a tear that made it through his defences. God damn it. He turned his head to the window and bit his teeth together, screaming in his head for the driver to go faster.

“I’m going as fast as I can, hold on there.”

Just before they reached the hospital, Sam crammed for his wallet and slammed a bunch of dollar notes down - probably way more than he actually had to pay. He wouldn’t be able to handle the wait after they were already there.

The cab stopped as close to the entrance as possible. Sam shot the driver a thanks and leaped out of the car, and now that he had it in his own hands to decide his speed he sprinted into the building, cursing as he noticed he didn’t have his phone and had to stop at the reception.

Asking for the room number took way to long, the receptionist pressing the keys seemingly purposefully slow until she was able to tell him where they had put Dean Winchester.

Sam’s heart was pounding as he ran up the stairs. Two wrong turns but he finally found the room. He took a deep breath and only hesitated for a second while bracing himself before opening the door.

His breath hitched, seeing Dean lying in this bed, slightly propped up and unmoving. Every step he took toward his brother felt like he was wading through water, his body fully emerged in it and forbidding him from getting air.

“Sam,” someone said. Sam slowly turned his head toward his mother, who was rising from her seat. Sam didn’t pay her anymore attention, walked to the other side of Dean’s bed and pulled a second chair to the bed, keeping his eyes on his brother.

He sat, took Dean’s hand in his own and watched him.

He was sleeping. He was simply sleeping. His chest ever so slightly rising and falling, his hand wasn’t dead cold, and he pulse was still beating.

Sam swallowed and tightened his grip.

“What-,” his voice sounded so weak. “What?”

A hand came down on his shoulder. “I can get you the doctor if you want, but he’ll just tell you the same,” Mom said quietly, it barely penetrated the static in his ears. “He’s stable and can breath on his own, he has broken ribs and-”

“How long?”

“He’s been here for about two hours.”

He hasn’t woken up in two hours. The beeping of the machines filled the silence. Mom’s hand on his shoulder felt too heavy, so he shrugged it off, laying his other hand lightly over the IV going into Dean’s arm.

Mom sighed and crouched down next to him, tilting his head toward her and brushing of the tears he hasn’t noticed were flowing again. He pulled his head away from her grip and worried face, and scooted closer to Dean. “Stop that, I can’t see him.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said and sank onto the chair where she had been sitting earlier.

“Your dad is fine, he has no major injuries and will be released today.”

Sam gave a sharp nod, his thumb stroking the back of Dean’s hand.

They sat, not talking for who knows how long, Sam had lost his perception of time probably already in the bus.

Dean had scratches on his face. He was so pale, was that normal?

Sam raised the hand that wasn’t gripping Dean’s in a deadlock and combed through his hair with shaky fingers, fluffing it up, making him appear more awake, more alive.

After a while Mom cleared her throat and said, “I’m going to check on John, I’ll be back, Sam, yeah?”

Sam brought Dean’s hand up to his mouth and let the knuckles brush against his lips. His eyes never left Dean’s face.

The door closed silently.

They were alone.

Sam released a breath and bit his lip, doing everything in his power to hold back the tears. “Dean,” he croaked, cleared his throat and tried again.

“Dean. They say you’ll gonna be fine, Dean? Right? You’ll see.” He still didn’t sound like himself.

“You promised we’d go see a movie tomorrow, you jerk. You gotta keep your promises.” His heart felt heavy.

“I hate you.” It was barely a whisper, Sam hoped Dean didn’t hear it.

“I hate you.” Louder this time.

“You said you’d drive carefully.” This was Dean’s fault.

“I’m sorry, it’s not your-” His throat closed up. He tapped on Dean’s hand once, finishing his sentence silently. Whatever.

He’s supposed to wake up. His voice was supposed to wake him up.

This big damn idiot doesn’t play by the rules.

Sam’s eyes were burning.

Now that he had stopped talking the room was too quiet and too loud. Silence, but for the beeping, it got louder and louder, draining everything. Steps on the halway walking past the door, too loud. Sam closed his eyes, everything was spinning, the screaming silence drowning him.

“Hey... Sammy.”

~

Mary opened the door, John right behind her, and stopped in her step as she saw that Dean was awake. She lost the grip on the door handle and reached for John, a hand flying up to her chest as the relief set it. Before she could react otherwise Sam flung his arms around Dean’s shoulders, shaking violently while a sob out of this world worked its way out of his chest. Dean put a hand around his little brother and hid his face in Sam’s hair, who pushed even closer to him.

She watched as Sam pulled back, just a little bit, and pressed his mouth in a desperate kiss against Dean’s lips. Sam’s face was completely wet, the tears freely falling, and the sobs still ripping through him, making the kiss sloppy and ugly with the way the snot was bubbling at his nose. Dean held him tighter as he let up, Sam not being able to breathe through his nose but pressing his face against his neck anyway, slumping against his big brother.

With that, three things came to her.

Her relief could never be as all-encompassing as Sam’s.

Her mother’s grief of losing a child would have never been as devastating as the grief of one of her sons after losing their brother. 

Her boys were everything to each other. She had this one a long time coming, and truly, it was stupid she only could see that now.

John put his hand on the small of her back - a silent recognition of her thoughts.

It was this moment in which Dean looked up, meeting first her eyes and then John’s. He looked at them for what felt like an eternity. But then, he closed his eyes and buried his face in Sam’s hair again.

Mary turned her head, the moment too intimate to continue watching, and catched John’s stone cold expression. For a moment she was transported back to that moment her love had died, forcing her to make a deal of life that had never been collected. She swallowed and recognized this as an unchangeable fact of existence; none of her own children would ever _not_ be this devoted and dependent on their own love.

She gave a little shake of her head, gently made John take a step back out of the room and closed the door behind them. There was a love in her husband’s eyes that mirrored her own; one that barely ever was clouded by other emotions. And she felt it in her heart that they would never speak of this - and maybe that was also a trait passed down to their kids.

**Author's Note:**

> Noticed how I blatantly tried to avoid as much as possible about the medical stuff? Shouldn’t have written a hospital scene then, but oh well…


End file.
